Letters to Culver Creek
by ohyoursweetdisposition
Summary: My letters for the characters of John Green's novel Looking for Alaska.
1. Dearest Alaska,

** Dearest Alaska**,

I guess I'm writing to you first because you were the one who touched me the most. I can be as destructive as you at times, but in different ways. In the end, all of us are in the labyrinth of suffering, but some just have it worst than others. Maybe I could say I know exactly how you feel, but I don't. Not exactly. Here's what I know: I know what it's like to feel horrible about yourself. I know what it's like to feel like you're a terrible person. I know what it's like to hide a part of yourself, and shrug off things that really break us. I know what it's like to want to die. I know what it's like to want to just vanish and end the suffering of those around you, and your own. The mood swings, everything. There is a question in my mind, though. Does it end? Does the pain end? In my opinion, you didn't kill yourself. You were only self-destructive. Thinking that one day, maybe. That's what I think sometimes. One day, maybe. I hope I never destroy myself like you did, but in the end, I destroy everything. This might be getting terribly sad, but that's what we both are, right? Terribly sad. And a lot of people too, really.

What I liked about you was why you died. It wasn't a disease. It wasn't a terrible accident (Okay, sort of). No, you were just sad. You were just miserable. You just wanted to exist the labyrinth of suffering. Maybe not that night, but one day. And I get that, because I do too. We all suffer in different ways. Like all people that suffer a lot, you didn't want to share your pain. You hid it behind a smile at times, and behind being a complete bitch who hates everyone and everything at others. That's a really good description of me.

Despite being quite alike, we're also quite different. For starters, I'm the anti-social loser who never had her first kiss, while you're the beautiful, hot girl who gets whichever guy she wants. You're fun and spontaneous, outgoing, friendly. You're what I am and what I wish to be. Maybe that's why I like you so much. Most people wouldn't dare to say this, but I do. _**I admire you, Alaska Young.**_ You didn't let your pain and inner demons get in the way of having fun and living life, and guess what? That's exactly what I did. So your death made me cry, and your death caused me pain. But starts that shine so brightly eventually explode. You were one of the brightest stars in the sky.

Jim Morrison once said we shouldn't hide our pain, and that it is a part of our reality. Maybe he's right, but hadn't I hid my pain, people would notice all the horrible things I feel and do to myself. You didn't hide your pain. You said it. You told Pudge you smoked to die. You told him you were a deeply unhappy person. Oh, how I wish I could say that. Simple words, right? "What you must understand about me is that I'm a deeply unhappy person." Well, so am I. But I couldn't say those words to anyone but myself. Which is why I write. And which is why I am writing to you. Alaska Young, I am a deeply unhappy person. _Deeply _unhappy. Does anyone know? Nope. Not a single person. Now you do. You should feel honored, really. I rarely express my feelings.

So know that you marked me, and the mark you left was not a scar. Whenever I am sad, I will read your story, and feel even more sad. It might not make sense to you, but it does to me.

Love always, Mariana


	2. Dearest Pudge,

**Dearest Pudge**,

Oh, Pudge. Pudge, Pudge, Pudge. I can relate to you just as much as I can relate to Alaska. The introvert trying to find their way in. Unlike you, I'm upset about it. Why am I never going to be let in? I should've gotten used to it by now. At least you found the place where you belonged, I didn't. Here am I, so late, in my room, writing a letter to you. I do have friends, but they'd all rather be with someone else. I'm just the second choice. It sucks, but that is something I'm used to. Listen to me when I tell you this, Pudge, it is better not to have any friends than to be a second choice. I mean, you know you have friends, but they don't like you as much as they like others.

Just like you memorize last words, I memorize speeches. Not boring, historical speeches, though. No. Speeches from movies, tv shows, books, plays, and okay, yeah, once in a while an exciting historical speech. But my limit is the XIX century. Pretty much nobody knows about this. I guess it's just plain old boring and unimportant. Just like I am, my friend, just like I am.

I'm very glad you found your place, though. There is nothing better than knowing you belong somewhere. At least I think there isn't. I wouldn't know that, I don't belong anywhere. Anywhere. I still need to seek my Great Perhaps. Which is why I love traveling. But I never found it. I'm glad you found yours at Culver Creek. If two lonely souls can't be happy, at least one can.

I am also very sorry that you had to fall for Alaska. As a troubled person I tell you, I know we're not easy. You thought you loved Alaska, but in reality, you loved the girl you thought she was, and I'm terribly sorry for that. You know about her mood swings and all, but there was so much more to it. So much. I guess you had to find it out the hard way, which is also known as the worst way. Maybe if there's an after life, you could meet her when you're way older, and tell her the words you never said. Tell her that you lived well, and were very happy. Tell her you fell in love with a beautiful woman, who loved you more than anything. But here is the one thing you can never forget to tell her: tell her that she never left your mind. Not even a second. Tell her you found your own way out of the labyrinth. She'll be glad to know.

So, the different paths you choose won't matter. One day, you, the Colonel, Takumi, Lara and Alaska will all be together again. Even if she's not there physically, she will never truly leave you, because in your memory she lives, and in the memory of all students at Culver Creek, really. She isn't gone, Pudge. Just like Julius Caeser and Alexander the Great aren't. Her impact on the world might not have been as big, but it was on your life, and at the end of the day, that's what truly matters.

In conclusion to all of it, I was slower to realize what you did. Life goes on. Good things might not last forever, but neither do bad things. Life doesn't stop for anybody, not even the gods themselves. One day you will meet Alaska, but if that day is not today, who are you to stop it? We were all born to die, and even if she went before expected, it was for a good cause. In history class, we always mocked the Middle Ages, because their answers to everything was "Because God wanted it to be that way." And only now I realize, hell yeah, if it happened, God most likely wanted it that way. It doesn't mean she's a bad person. Just that it was her time. People talk about side effects of dying, but would you like to know a side effect of living? Every single smile ends in some kind of sadness. There is absolutely no happiness that lasts forever. Your time with her did end, but hey, wasn't it good while it lasted?

Maybe I'm writing that more to myself than to you, because I'll miss her just as much. But no matter what, I'll get through it. We'll get through it. Even without knowing you, I felt like I did, Miles Halter, and I can tell you this: you are one of the best people I've ever met.

Love always, Mariana


End file.
